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I had only read two lines into the dinner group invitation from my friend Mary Lou, who had recently crossed the Mason-Dixon line from South Carolina into New Jersey, and I had already spotted two warning signs.

First of all, this was New Jersey. You know, the state that borders New York, home to the Yankees. Even people who watch New Jersey reality TV shows, like “Jersey Shore” or “The Real Housewives of New Jersey” know that we New Jersian’s have dignity. We have class. We don’t say “Y’all.” We say, “Yo!”

Second of all, I was shocked by the evocativeness of the second line, and wondered what kind of “South” would be going in my mouth. In my opinion, it was suggestive.

Whether or not it was an innuendo wasn’t totally apparent . . .which I think, by definition, makes it an innuendo.

Anyway, I couldn’t speak for the others but I for one couldn’t wait to find out!

It was our kick off dinner group. Dinner groups are a popular form of adult suburban entertainment, defined as a gathering of couples for a casual evening filled with food, drink, and sexual tension.

Marry Lou had prepared an authentic Southern-style meal of cucumber salad, Creole rice, home-style mac and cheese, and pulled pork straight from the backyard smoker. She even served special barbecue sauces with names like “Spicier than Satan’s Tongue” and “I’m Hotter than my Daughter.”

Already the bar had been set high. This worried me. Would this sort of cultural theme be expected of other hosts? If so, how would I pull off “Urban Jewish?” How does a person add flair to chopped liver and gefilte fish?

When we arrived I discovered that my instincts had been right. I had been sipping my margarita and enjoying an intellectual conversation with Mary Lou and Bruce, another guest, about Occupied Wall Street, property taxes in New Jersey, and the best way to remove spider veins from your thighs, when Bruce asked me, “Yo, Lisa, what’s your porn name?”

“My porn name?” I said, voicing surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know?” Mary Lou said, as if when it came to personal identification, knowing your porn name ranked up there with political affiliation and race. I considered myself as liberal as the next nice Jewish girl, but I guess I never learned about this social phenomenon in Kosher Sex 101.

Apparently “porn names” had become a new form of suburban pop culture word game entertainment, like putting the words “in bed” at the end of your fortune cookie saying. For example, “To affirm is to make firm….in bed.”

How had my friends been made privy to this naughty little alias game? When did porn star madness become a category on Super Jeopardy?

Bruce explained to those of us (me) who hadn’t yet been graced with the nuances of modern day porn, the technique behind creating a porn name.

“You take the name of your first pet as the first name . . .” he paused to make sure we (I) understood. “And then, you take the name of the street you grew up on as the second name. Mine is Little Meat Cypress!” He blurted, putting his hand over his mouth with sudden awareness. This admission, of course, would provide an endless source of ribbing for the rest of the evening.

Soon, the entire dinner group was engrossed in a round of, “Let’s take turns creating our porn names.” It felt dirty, nasty, and frankly, downright titillating.

“Mine is Kenny Hocksucker!” shrieked Little Meat’s wife. It’s a good thing she wasn’t dyslexic, or I’d have spit out a mouthful of margarita.

Then it was my turn. “Okay,” I said, going along with the game. “Mine is Sue-me Woods.”

“Sue-me?” A chorus rang.

“My dog was a Chinese Shih Tzu,” I explained, “and my dad was an attorney with a sense of humor.”

“Miles Long!” continued Tom.

“Frisky Beaver!” said Stacy. And so it went.

The only person who didn’t reveal his porn name was my husband. It wasn’t until we returned home that I discovered why, when after some prodding, he finally divulged his first dog’s name . . . Jack.

I admittedly do not have the security Audubon Ron courageously displayed earlier so I will refrain from my “name.” I will say both the fortune cookie “beds” and this “porn name” exercise both have crossed my path as well. As for barbeque sauce, I have seen many of them with names and labels much, much hotter than the sauces actually were. They failed to live up to expectations. Yo, what’s up with that?

I had three cats as my first pets, giving me three equally porn-tastic names. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you – Topaz Tarr, Champagne Tarr and last but by no means least, Pussywillow Tarr!!!!! It’s as though my parents had this game in mind.

Hey, thanks for commenting on my blog so I could find yours. You had me at the title. But I am totally mystified at how these people end up with names that sound like porn stars. Like what kind of pet is named Meat? I’m a good girl and I won’t cheat. My name would be Chipper 30th, which sounds like the latest version of farm equipment. Re adding flair to chopped liver: My mom, the kosher caterer, made chicken liver chickens for the parties she catered. So you can see the possibilities.